Page 44 of From the Embers

“Did you lose people this week?”

“We lose people every week, but it hits harder when it’s kids.”

Her eyes gloss over. “Oh, D, I’m so sorry.”

I swallow. “There was a car wreck a few days ago, a bad one. I was one of the guys pulling bodies out of a mini-van. You’re trained to be tough, to get on with the job, but we’re human, too, and parts of this job stink.”

She cups my face. “I think what you do is so fucking brave.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know about that.”

“How do you deal with it? The losses?”

“You just have to try and put it out of your mind or you send yourself crazy. We have access to some amazing resources, but guys will be guys. I’ve had therapy before, but some of the men I work with won’t because of preconceived notions.” I shake my head. “For me, it helps me manage mental challenges like PTSD, anxiety, and depression. In our line of work, it’s not uncommon to fall victim to the barrier—the one that makes us fear reaching out because it’s not manly, or career wise the Cap may think we’re not up for the job. Luckily, I have an amazing team, well except for Gage, he’s an ass.”

She smiles softly, pecking me on the lip. “I think you’re the bravest person I know.”

“You put me on a pedestal I don’t deserve.”

“You did rescue me from a burning building, I think that gives me reason to be very fucking proud of you. If not for you, I may not be here today, D.”

“I think about that night all the time.”

“What does it bring up for you?”

“The panic of potentially not being able to get you guys out. Daryl’s face at the window and him trying to pass Sammy out so he could go look for you and Carrie.”

“You were so young,” she says, tears welling in her eyes. “To do what you did.”

“Well, my parents weren’t happy with me.” I chagrin. “But I’d do it all over again if I had the choice.”

“I know you would.”

“And I guess it kinda instilled a deep fear of losing someone I love, not necessarily in a fire, but in general. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so closed off in relationships, unable to really connect with someone.”

Adi looks at me like she’s looking into my soul. “You’re doing great.”

I smile despite myself. “I keep a lot inside.”

“I know that, and you don’t have to. I’m strong, I can take it. If you need to get something off your chest, I can listen.”

I nudge her with my hips. “Thank you. I appreciate that. Sometimes when I’ve been with other women they think they’re getting the big, bad ass firefighter, but I can’t be that all day every day. I need normalcy, too. But normal is boring, according to some.”

“No, it isn’t. Normal is perfectly understandable considering what you do for a living. I get that, really I do. They want the image,” she says. “They have an idea of what they think being with a firefighter is, but they have no clue.”

“I can’t say I made it easy to be with me, with my hours and shit.”

“You’re way too nice, but Hannah? Seriously?”

I chuckle. “You won’t let that drop, will you?”

“I’m just glad you came to your senses. Women like her can suck the soul right out of you.”

“I would never let that happen.”

When I finish attending to her, I wrap her in a fluffy towel and then quickly dry myself off. We climb into bed and I pull her body close to mine so we’re spooning. I feel content. For the first time in my life I feel like I could really do this. What’s more? I want to do this.

“Thank you for sharing some of that with me,” Adi says, snuggling her butt against me.